INTERVIEW with an 8-YEAR-OLD MAGAZINE PUBLISHER

Over the summer, a couple months into quarantine, 8-year-old Rin Windshadow had a great idea: a magazine with art and stories inspired by nature. Though she and her friends couldn't get together due to the pandemic, the magazine provided a way for them to share ideas and get creative with one another from a distance. Here is what the founding editor has to say about the publication:

"We have a magazine. It is called My Little Quarantine Magazine. We write stories, and we draw pictures.

"It was started at Sesquicentennial Park. The first issue was about nature. My mom and I worked on it. She drew a mustache and a hat on herself.

"We sent it to some friends. They started to write and draw too. We put it together, edited it, and sent it out virtually. It was published every week until school started. Now it does not have a specific time--just when we want to publish it. There have been twelve issues.

"We publish any stories and any pictures--magic, nature, once a picture for a video game. It is cool because there are pictures and writing and photos. I love seeing the drawings my friends make.

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"My favorite stories to write were the stories where I collaborated with my mom. My favorite one was called The Very Bad Witch & The Devil Pumpkin. It was about saving the night and day cycle in a village inhabited by pumpkins. My favorite thing to draw is anything."

Each issue features the work of 3-5 regular contributors and averages 15-20 pages.

For a sample of the work appearing in MLQM, please enjoy this excerpt from Windshadow's The Very Bad Witch & The Devil Pumpkin:

Once upon a time in the land of Pumpkin Town, the sun stopped shining. Without the sun, the population of pumpkins stopped growing.

Kyla got up and looked out her curtains, and saw darkness. She thought, "Oh no! I HAVE to do something!"

She went to her friend Devil Pumpkin to form a plan. Their plan was to go find a witch that could help them--the only witch in Pumpkin Town. She was greedy and sometimes mean, but she was very helpful with things like this.

They found her hut on the swamp at the edge of town. It sat up on stilts. Fog drifted all around. Kyla and Devil Pumpkin had to bounce from lily pad to lily pad to get to the hut. Kyla knocked on the door.

The witch answered. She was bald, with a hat. She had purple eyes, and smelly breath, and a green strap around the hat with a buckle. She wore a black robe and was holding a potion when she opened the door.

"Hunh. What do you want?" the witch snarled.

Devil Pumpkin, who knew the witch better than Kyla, said, "We need a potion to restore the night and day cycle."

The witch said, "First you must find the Soul Slime, and collect five droplets of slime. Bring them to me, and I will give you your potion. . ."

HERE ARE the FOUR DESIRES DRIVING ALL HUMAN BEHAVIOR that YOU CAN USE to CREATE COMPELLING CHARACTERS

By El Ochiis

“What is fueling your character’s desire?” Drilled Elias Dillard of The Italia Conti Academy of Theatre Arts, in London, which specialized in theatre arts training, where I had been offered a non-paid position assisting in production. It was one of those dream jobs that sounded much better on paper than in real life.

“I’m not sure what you mean?” I groaned, with timid insolence, looking down at my script for mercy.

One day, an understudy for a top actor was ill and, another duty got added to my list of unpaid responsibilities - I was asked to read. I read the line like I would have written it, not like the writer had intended. Though my action was met with consternation by the director, my version worked better and he became interested in my work. I was given permission to present to him one of my plays from a series called Splitting Seconds.

“All human activity is prompted by passion - man differs from other animals in one very important respect, he has some desires which are, so to speak, infinite, which can never be fully gratified, and which would keep him restless even in Paradise.”

“Um?” I choked, trying not to cry. I was young, I had no clue what he was referring to. Affecting the stance of an authoritative figure from one of Dickens’ novels, he gestured for me to follow him to his office, a place that housed leather-bound books that were older than the building itself. He had everything in alphabetical order. Pulling one from the “B” Section, he looked up, then down:

“The great British philosophy, Sir Bertrand Arthur William Russell will help you there, my dear.” He offered, with a hint of condescension.

“I had assumed all philosophers were French.” I acerbically responded, taking the book and spending the next week absorbing it like a sponge.

Bertrand Russell, as he is known, states that there are four infinite desires driving all human behavior:

1. Acquisitiveness — the wish to possess as much as possible of goods, or the title to goods — is a motive which, I suppose, has its origin in a combination of fear with the desire for necessaries.

2. Rivalry — he argues, is in turn upstaged by human narcissism - many men would cheerfully face impoverishment if they could thereby secure complete ruin for their rivals.

3. Vanity — a motive of immense potency. Think, children who are constantly performing some antic, and saying “Look at me.”

4. Love of power —the most potent of the four impulses, he would argue – is closely akin to vanity, but it is not by any means the same thing. What vanity needs for its satisfaction is glory, and it’s easy to have glory without power -Power, like vanity, is insatiable. Nothing short of omnipotence could satisfy it completely.

Which of these will you use to drive your character(s) – which two - or all four of them, if you dare?

FRUSTRATION with WRITING

By Sharon May

I have had a tough time writing a blog. In fact, I wrote half of one and trashed it. Figure if I was bored writing it, you’d be bored reading. Instead, I decided to just spew forth my mixed feelings about writing and delve into why I am struggling to keep my butt in the seat.

I love to write. You know, the actual time and energy spent putting words on paper throughout the process, or even just thinking about the characters, plot twists and turns, nice turns of phrase, and spiffy dialogue. I find both great peace and renewal when I can concentrate on playing with language.

Since I am getting closer to finishing my novel, I decided to learn more about what I needed to do to get published. Unfortunately, what I learned was I hate the “business of writing,” which means everything I have to do to publish and sell my works.

Of course, I want to be published, sold, and enjoyed by readers. I don’t want to do what it takes to make that happen. Every time I find myself thinking of “fan base,” “Internet identity,” and “query letter,” my shoulders tense and I squirm in my chair.

It’s the same reason I didn’t get an MBA. Not the least bit interested in reading about business. I learned accounting at my father’s knee, and spent almost 20 years working in the field. I enjoyed it and stopped only because I knew my true calling was teaching composition.

While learning about publishing, I lost my motivation to write, especially for my long works in progress. I have written some shorter pieces so it’s not like all my drive is shot. But time is a-wasting, as people say in the hills of Kentucky.

But it’s not like I can ignore as aspects of the business of writing. Some work needs to be done in the late stages of writing a longer work to be positioned to publish and sell the work. That’s the
quandary. How do I do just enough of the business end without interfering with my writing?

Obviously, I need a staff to help with or even do those tasks, preferably who works pro bono or who will gamble on my future. Of course, I’ve considered having Peggy do more than be an early-draft reader, but she’s so busy I hate to ask more of her. However, her “politicking” should require less of her time. A millennial friend of mine needs to learn how to do what I need done on the Internet, and we are in negotiations.

Intellectually, I know what to do overcome my frustration. I have to write and ignore the future or there won’t be anything to publish. The advice to live in the moment can’t be overstated.

Write on!

IS YOUR WRITING HUMANING?

By Bonnie Stanard

Yes, the word is humaning but it’s new and I may not know how to use it. Among end-of-the-year lists are those that document words making their first appearance. Humaning shows up on 2020 word lists.

It was coined by Mondelez International (think Oreo cookies, Ritz crackers), and it’s getting attention—called ad copy genius by some and tommyrot by others.

In a news release, Mondelez explains that humaning creates a unique approach with real human connections, and will uncover what unites us all. Could we say that is an objective we fiction writers are chasing after? Are our novels being upstaged by a company selling Oreo cookies?

More Mondelez: “We are no longer marketing to consumers, but creating connections with humans.” Mmmm. Quite an assertion for a company selling crackers. On the other hand, it makes sense if you’re selling a story.

Mark Ritson, in an article in Marketing Week calls it “the greatest marketing bullshit of all time,” and “its new approach/philosophy/word makes them look very foolish.” When it comes to crackers, I can see Ritson’s point.

Whatever the controversy, humaning has made its way into the urban dictionary with a definition of “to act in a way that can only be described as human.” So this separates those of us who don’t act like humans from those who do? Then what is the opposite of humaning? Animaling? Nooo. (After all, humans are animals.) So is it planting? Maybe non-humaning? Un-humaning? Please! Don’t accuse me of non-humaning!

Marketing companies use and abuse language to persuade us to buy things. The challenge to copywriters is to attract attention at any cost, well, at almost any cost. Most of us fiction writers use a stable of well-worn words everybody understands. But copywriters resort to flaming language. After all, a fire is noticeable. It’s no surprise that words they add are a blister breed of language.

Marketing language plumbs the depths of our materialistic longing while appealing to the shallowness of our introspection. Take the word masstige (mass + prestige), another new word from the marketing industry. It means targeting the masses with prestigious goods. For example, car companies, such as Mercedes-Benz, have used masstige to sell mid-luxury models.

How about listicle (list + article)? Copywriters discovered that lists and/or bullet points quicken interest in products. If you’re like me, your attention span is better suited to lists than paragraphs.

Or thumb-stopping? Meaning to stop surfers from scrolling. Used by Pinterest, Shutterstock, and Samsung. The idea is that these companies help create online material for mobile devices that is so dynamic surfers come to a standstill.

I didn’t know it, but cutting-edge is out and bleeding-edge is in. What next? Butchering-edge? Killing-edge?

Another new one is immersive experience. This reflects the growth of technology and the inroads it has made influencing our senses. For example, a fitness workout app that resembles a game and provides information about your body.

Two new expressions I find particularly annoying: 1) purpose-driven lifestyle brand, a term used by Blue Apron, Chipotle, Goop and Godiva to describe themselves. I don’t need a company brand to make my lifestyle purpose-driven, thank-you-very-much; and 2) core competency, which means the underlying strength of a company or a person. This suggests that some people do not have core competency, something I find demeaning.

You can catch up on the meanings of some fun words, such as awesomesauce, beardo, amirite, nothingburger, and puggle by checking out Juliana LaBianca’s 2020 word list. 

The Ink Reward

By Kasie Whitener 

The buzz in this room isn’t the only one. Down the hall are two other artists, two more permanent works being stenciled in flesh and blood and ink. 

Are they getting something dark and sinister like skulls or horror movie characters? A naked Madonna standing by the side of the road with a cigarette hanging from her pouty lips like my friend Cory put on his deltoid in 2002? 

What are their stories? What story will I write? 

“I’ve never known anyone named Adam,” says the opening line of my Carrie McCray Award-winning short story "Cover Up." It fictionalizes the first visit to Adam, the artist now leaning over my arm, buzzing needle in hand. 

The narrator, a middle-aged mother and wife, visits a studio to have an old tattoo covered up. A midlife awakening occurs: the excavation of a younger version of herself spawned by the subtle sexuality of trusting someone not her husband in such intimate contact. 

Cover Up, was also part of my second visit with Adam. A year ago, some four years after our first encounter, I found him at a studio called 7 Sins, and asked for a monarch butterfly. 

“She wrote a story about you,” my sister told him. “And it won an award.” 

I emailed it to him. It’s more sexual than I remember. It’s also fiction. But it still made that visit awkward. 

On the inside of my right wrist, connected imagery to my first novel, After December, is a monarch butterfly. I’ve decided to get a series of butterflies from wrist to elbow, one for each published book. 

So here I am, a year later and two more books with ISBNs, marking myself again. Under Adam’s capable hand. His pale green eyes. His smile hidden by the pandemic mask. The intimacy of this encounter more about voices and stories and talking me through the excruciating pain. 

Tattoos hurt. 

“Do you do anything special when you finish a book?” Adam asks. He means a cigar, a good bottle of wine, a weekend vacay. But the answer is no, there’s nothing ritualistic in the writing of stories or the finishing thereof. Only in the publishing. And I’m doing it now. 

“I get tattoos,” I say and wince. “Doesn’t that qualify?” 

“But that’s after publication,” he says. 

In Cover Up, the excavation reminds the narrator about her own corporeal existence. She leaves the tattoo artist’s hands having recaptured a sense that she’s real. Breakable. Not an idea or a job or a title or the sum of her own aspirations. 

Real is being published. Others are buying the book. Reading the book. Taking what I’ve done and letting it change them.

Like a butterfly is a changed caterpillar, publishing is emerging. Existing in the way Word documents and ideas for stories never can. Legitimized not by the effort itself, but by the recognition of that effort as released. 

Two new butterflies joined the first one this year. Titles in flight. Inked and real.